A Silver Romance
by ShadowMecha
Summary: Ensign Silver... does stuff. Yeah. And Chekov's there too. Hobbit Time. And notice how it's rated G? There will a plot... I think... and there wil be NO ORANGE FOOD! It's gettin' mushy.
1. Those Darn Klingons

Disclaimer : Don't own Star Trek, don't own Chekov, but I own the idea to Ensign Silver. i_am_bug and I share her. Well, I guess I don;t owwn her then I don't even own THE SPEECH. Tavia does. I own the romance... (o.O) By "popular demand". MY little joke. I own it. (_-) What a kidder I am. And now

**_A SILVER ROMANCE__**

CHAPTER ONE : One of Those Days Again

RED ALERT!!! RED ALERT!!! BREE!!! BREE!!!

Chekov rolled his eyes. It was going to be one of those days. Kirk was going to make him stay aboard and click buttons while everybody else had fun. Chekov hated that.

"OK, people!" said Kirk, clapping his hands, either for attention or fun. Chekov suspected the latter. "We're going to beam down. That'll be Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Spock, Bones and me. Cool with that, y'all?"

Kirk had been acting odd latey. Must have been a mid-life crisis. He was wearing and 1960 disco outfit with the shirt open and a bunch of thick, gold chains on his bare chest. His toupee looked like and afro this week, and dark glasses. It was scaring the crew. Ensign Jones was inching away from him.

"Eet is NOT OK with y'all!" Chekov yelled. Kirk might have given him an odd look, but the glasses hid it. Chekov was standing now, yelling, waving his arms.

"You tink you can stop me from ewer doing anything!? No, I am strong! I can do stuff, Keptin! I want to go to the pleneet!"

Kirk sat down hard. "Uh, if you feel that strong about it Fine, sure. I can let you go. Find a random ensign and beam down. I'm down with that, yo Russian dawggie!"

Chekov gripped his forehead, then got past the punk accent. "Really?" he asked, staring.

"Yo dawgg, I mean it. Y' wanna go, fine! Go!"

And Chekov went. He sprinted off to the turbolift.

Spock turned to KDawgg. "Captain, why did you let him go? We are on red alert."

"True, Spock-my-man, but the red alert is onboard. I just wanted to get away. So we'll deal with the Klingons outside the window." He pointed at he screen on the front of the ship. "Or whatever technical jargon we're supposed to use in reference to that thing."

Spock looked logical. "Yes, KDawgg."

Kirk reached over to give his first officer a high five, but Spock just gave him the Vulcan hand greeting.

Kirk rolled his eyes.

Chekov was in the transporter room when he realized he'd forgotten to get an ensign. He decided not to get a redshirt; except for Uhura they died too fast. He leaned out the door and grabbed a random gold-dress (A/N : Does such a thing exist? It's like a gold-shirt. Like Chekov. But female. In one of those skimpy little dress thingers. That's what I'm calling a dress.) and dragged her into the room.

"You've got a special mission. Ve're beaming down."

The ensign looked startled but nodded, her curly brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. Chekov pointed at the transporter pads and follwed. When they were on their respective pads he turned to Commander Kyle and jerked his thumb at the ensign. Kyle nodded and energized the transporter.

Chekov and the random ensign (A/N : Disapperated?) disappeared.

Kirk was back in his normal uniform just in case the Klingons hailed (A/N : NO! He did NOT change on the bridge) and it was a good thing he'd planned ahead.

The Romulans hailed.

Kirk looked levelly at the screen. "Um"

"Whoops, sorry. You wanted Klingons," said the Romulan.

They turned off the hailing frequency.

"We are the Klingons."

"That's better," said Kirk, staring at the Klingon ouside the window.

"Spiffy," said the Klingon. "You will now die, please."

The Klingons fired and killed the unraised sheild. Kirk screamed like a girl. "AAIAAH!" (A/N : And the author laughed)

"Why did you do that?" asked Kirk.

"No reason," said the Klingon. "Spite, I s'pose."

Kirk sent out two calls to eineneering. "Don't let Chekov beam down! Scotty, get us outta here!" He gave the Klingon his best defiant Kirk stare.

They were gone, zipping through space.

Kirk smiled at the bridge crew and they all rolled their eyes. All except Spock, who kind of took a deep, cleansing breath and did not show emotion.

Then the call came in from the transporter room.

"Captain Kirk, Captain Kirk, Commander Kyle here."

"Report, commander? Damage? Injuries? Compliments?" He sounded hopeful.

"No, sir. It's just-"

Kirk whimpered. "Just one. Please?"

"What, injury?"

"No! Compliment."

"Uh, your toupee looks real."

"Thanks. Kirk out."

"NO! I have a report, sir!" (A/N: I admit that was a space filler as much as part of the plot (*-*))

"What is it?" asked Kirk in his best I-don't-really-care-but-as-the-captain-I-have-to-ask voice.

"Chekov, sir! He'd already beamed out!"

Kirk looked stunned. "But that's not what was supposed to- well, that's really sad, too bad we had to lose such a fine- I mean, oh, _veeth_, let's go get him."

"Good idea, sir!" chorused the bridge.

They were back in the planet in about five minutes. (A/N : Or as Spock would have said "5.1000000001 minutes, sir.")

"Scan for life," said Kirk, filing his nails and leaning with his knees crossed on the chair arm. "Then we can beam 'em up, I guess."

Spock fiddled with some random buttons. Then he tapped a nob slightly to the left. Then he raised his eyebrows.

"Captian, this is most, um, illogical unusual highly unexpected"

"How unexpected?" asked Kirk, and Spock rattled off the first 40 digits of pi without the decimal, then added "Over one."

"Kinda unexpected then?" asked Kirk in his I-am-so-super-smart way.

"Yes, captain. There are no signs of life on the planet."

Kirk lept to his feet. "No signs of life? But Chekov's down there!"

"No, sir. Evidently he beamed down just as out ship was hit."

"What, so you think he's dead?"

"No, sir."

"Alternate universe?"

"No, sir."

"Wormhole?"

"No-"

"Then what!?"

Spock blinked. "Time warp, captain. He'll be stuck on earth. And he will hav eto shift through 8 different eras before he can return home."

Kirk pinched the flesh between his eyes. "Dear God. Chekov in a time warp"

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Well, that was fun. It'll get better I hope. Lotsa authors notes, but that's OK. We'll figure it out in the end. R&R if ye want more. R&R if you don't want more. R&R if you don't care. R&R in general.

And isn't it convenient? 8 eras. That'll be 10 chapters because I saved room for an "afterwords" chapter. And what shall these eras be, you ask?

Wait 'n see.


	2. Hobbit Time, Break it Down

DISCLAIMER : I would own the romance, but the romance element seems to have been taken out. Now it's adventure/humor. I don't know if it'll go back. Don't ask. No clue. Oh, and heck, forget it, this isn't a disclaimer. This is a claimer. I own all the Hobbits and Star Trek characters and everybody else. Get over it. PS and I also own Haldir.

**_A SILVER ROMANCE_**

Chapter Two : Roast Hobbit

All was quiet on the Western front. It was an interesting sort of day.

Chekov and the random ensign were being beseiged by hobbits.

(A/N : What a great way to end a chapter... but I just started, so no.) Chekov looked around "Uh, this isn't the pleneet" He looked up at the redshirt. "Hey, vern't you vearing a gold uniform? And vern't you a gerl?" (A/N : It's SUPPOSED to be spelled like that...)

The ensign smiled."Haha. Dream on. I've always been a reshirt. And I am a girl."

"But you ver vearing a dress and now you have real clothes"

The redshirt laughed. "Yeah, well, I don't like those stupid inform dresses."

"But the gold thing!"

"It was a holographic projection. Like Kat's jeans." (A/N : Everybody laugh at Margie! HAhahahaha...)

Chekov gave her a strange look and turned his attention to the problem at hand.

Hobbits.

They were looking up at Chekov and the ensign with something between wonder and fear on their brown faces.

"Big folk!" siad one.

"Look, Aragorn, weirdos!" said another, stuffing an apple in his face, then turning to spit out the core.

"No one at home'll beleive this..." said the third wonderingly. ""I tell you, my ol gaffer'd have thing or two to say about this. And then he'd call me a duffer..."

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!" wailed the fourth and final Hobbit. "The Ring! He sees all!!"

(A/N : It's SOOOO hard to tell which Hobbit's which (-_-) Not really...)

Someone very tall with blue-black hair stepped forward, passing by the little group, a bow pressed close to Chekov's nose. "Who are you! Speak, strangers, for we are on a pressing errand, and we shall not permit you to hinder it."

Chekov blinked at the arrow that was about halfway up his nostril (or at least he imagined it as such). "Ehm, I am called Chekov and this is"

"T'Jasmine Silver."

The person (who Chekov noticed had pointed ears) let the arrow tip fall. "Ai! Those are not orc names, Gandalf. What shall we do with them?"

"They do not seem unfriendly, Legolas," commented a very dark and handsome (A/N : No, Chekov and Silver do not think he's handsome... I do. But I still like Haldir better.) man. "I do not think we should harm them."

Legolas cast them a long look, as did another human, a tall old guy, and another short guy with a beard. The one called Legolas shrugged and did not make the long speech he wanted to.

Everybody else nodded, but they gave Silver long looks. The short guy with the beard grumbled.

"A _girl?_" He snorted and stumped off through the snow.

Snow

Snow!?

Someone had discovered Chekov's feet were cold.

He didn't say anything.

They were stumping through the snow in a big group. Chekov's feet were still cold. He didn't like winter, and he wasn't too fond of his outfit. He had discovered he was wearing the same kinds of outfits as the others. In fact, they were dress like the guy called Legolas.

Chekov wondered if he looked better in his standared gold Starfleet uniform or the elven outfit. He decided against asking Ensign Silver. It might seem shallow.

He wished he had a comb. Or food. Food would be nice

A heater would be better.

Chekov wondered if he could hunt rabbits with his bow. Or maybe he could hunt Hobbits. He wondered what roat Hobbit would taste like. Probably chewy and crunchy.

At least they would be quiet then.

"So if your on a quest to destroy the Ring of power but then your cousin gets stabbed by a nastybad ringwraith and the he gets sick and starts moaning and he looks quite ill but then a cool elf named Gary Moore or something like that takes your favorite cousin to a cool place called Imladeris and he gets all better and stuff, and all you really want is second breakfast but some stupid ranger"

Chekov wished the runt called Pippin would shut up. Chekov called him Pippy. Like Scotty. It was cool.

Chekov wanted roast Hobbits. These Hobbits. That was what he wanted most of all. Ensign Silver was learning to shoot arrows. Chekov wanted to go home. Chekov wanted a lot of things.

But before he went, he wanted roast Hobbit.

Chekov was having a bad day. First, they had woken up and fought wolves at about three in the morning. Chekov didn't like that part. Then they had marched a while, then fought a big water beast and Frodo had almost gotten killed. Now they were stuck in a dead Dwarven kingdom.

And the worst part was Chekov still didn't have his roasted Hobbit.

Ensign Silver, however, was having a spiffy time. She liked being in Moria. She liked using her bow. She wished Chekov would be better though. He was muttering grumpily to himself and didn't even perk up when she reminded him the Russians had invented chess and elevators and rollercoasters and had a literacy rate of 99.7% even back in the year 2003. She wondered what she could do. They were in a big room and Gimli was making a lot of noise about something. She was chatting animatedly but he'd been quiet for days.

Then there was a yell.

"ORCS!"

Chekov started and watched as the others ran around. He wanted something Russian. Like a dead chicken or a screensaver or his mommy or a PB&J. Some people who looked like Kirk were running around yelling. About then Chekov had to fight an orc so he had a problem and he didn't look around for a while. When somebody told him to run, he did.

The black-haired elf named Legolas was yelling and they were shunted around, not really certain of what was going on. Then they were being pushed forward and the others were yelling and Chekov's brain was telling him he wanted roast Hobbit. Something flaming was following them and Chekov wondered vaugly if it would roast Pippy for him but he didn't get a chance to ask. They were running and running and suddenly they were at a bridge. The others ran, but the redshirt who was now wearing green was waiting for him. He blinked, looked over his shoulder and began to sprint across the bridge. He wanted roast Hobbits, not roast Russian. Only the old man was left behind him now, and he was urging them forward. They were nearly to the end and Chekov was actually standing on the far side when it happened. The man shouted soemthing that Chekov didn't understand. Maybe he'd said eggroll. An eggroll would be good right now. Almost as good as a Roast Hobbit.

The old dude was in trouble. Ensign Silver was looking worried.

"We have to do something!" she whispered.

"Have fun," grumped Chekov. But Ensign Silver was dragging him out across the bridge, and he couldn't stop her. Then soemthing happened. Something really bad. Something bad enough to make Ensign Silve rmutter "crap" really loud. The bridge crumbled.

And then Chekov was falling. Oddly enough , though, one thing made him feel good...

Was it the fact that that Ensign Silver was still holding his hand?

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I guess it is a romance. And I'm going to have less comedy in the future. And that was the weird chapter. Less A/N, though. Hm. Well, I need confermation. If this stupid chapter doesn't get any reveiws, I'm cancelling the story.


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